


Waking up

by Aki_of_Eyluvial



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Gen, Sad with a Happy Ending, The Death Cure Spoilers, if we call that an "ending"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 14:16:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13660716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aki_of_Eyluvial/pseuds/Aki_of_Eyluvial
Summary: What happened between the time Gally was left for dead and the time they found him with the Right Arm.From Gally’s point of view through all the times he woke up in between.





	Waking up

The first time he woke up he was on a dirty floor staring blankly at a dirty ceiling, with something heavy and painful stuck in his chest, then he blacked out without a sound.

The second time wasn’t much better nor much different, there were sounds somewhere behind him but he couldn’t catch any word, actually he wasn’t really sure that there were words being spoken, they were more like gurgling sounds and ragged breaths. By the time he realized he was the one making those sounds darkness claimed him already.

The third time… he didn’t liked to thing about the third time he opened his eyes. It was too suddenly, too painfully, something, someone grabbed whatever was in his chest and pulled it out. He opened his eyes startled with a cough, he could feel blood filling his mouth, slowly dripping on his chin, pooling under him, leaving his body in a cold slumber. He was starting to drift into unconsciousness when he heard shouts somewhere around him, a pair of hands on his body, hands moving him around, turning his head, voices saying there was someone alive. They couldn’t possibly talk about him, couldn’t they? There was no way he was alive, or he would at least remember how to breath. But he couldn’t, after all he didn’t needed to know such a thing. He wasn’t alive.

Fourth time, fifth, sixth, many other times he woke up, all of them in different places, sometimes he managed to take a look around, other times he barely blinked before darkness. Every single time the pain was there, a constant.

The tenth time he felt grass under his hands before he opened his eyes, he was warm and comfortable, somewhere quiet and nice, and there was a soft humming playing in the air. When he finally decided to open his eyes he saw him. A kind face staring down at him with a smile, golden hair bathed in the light of the sun. The air was warm, he breathed deeply sitting on the fresh grass and looking at the boy, he was smiling that’s for sure, but the smile didn’t reached his eyes, they looked cloudy, almost sad. He opened the mouth but nothing came out, like he was completely mute. Other people roamed around them, talking with each other without sparing a look at the two boys sitting on the grass.  
“We’re fine here, no one is in pain or get sick or anything, and we take care of each other. But not you.” How could someone with such a kind e gentle voice say a thing like that? He made mistakes, of course, who didn’t? But didn’t he deserved peace too, in the end? Desperately he grabbed his hand, warm against his. “Not yet. There are still things you need to do Gally. Until then I’ll be here.”  
The Glade vanished around him, Ben was the last to disappear, Gally didn’t woke up in the bed, he sighed sadly in his sleep.

The twentieth times he saw a man with a syringe way too close to his body, he panicked, the young man panicked too, held his arms up, needle and everything, and almost yelled.  
“Oh my God! I swear I’m not trying to hurt you boy! I just need a sample of your blood. For fuck’s sake I even hate needles!”  
For some reason Gally relaxed a bit on the bed, maybe it was the hysterical tone of the poor man, he had so many questioned but his voice was gone, just like the time with Ben.

Thirtieth time. Or so it felt for him. His throat hurt, just when everything else stopped.  
Feverish dreams were better than reality, Gally woke up in the Glade every time, the grass, the sun on his face, even the walls around were familiar and safe. Reality was a creaking bed, a dirty white ceiling with a lightbulb hanging from it, a small window always closed, and sometimes the young man sitting at a desk on the other side of the wall. He was kind, answered every question when Gally found his voice back (“Why the bloody hell did you stuck that thing down my throat?! Now I get why the hell I couldn’t talk!” “Well you couldn’t breath either, so.”), explained who he was and what he was doing. Yes, the boy was kind, at first. Then things changed, he talked less, snapped at him for nothing, there were dark lines on his face. Then one day he stopped coming at all. For some reasons Gally knew.  
Others came to him, talked, explained, everything the young man did, no one spoke of him and of what happened. He knew anyway, he remembered.

The hundredth time Gally opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling for some seconds, then changed his clothes and eat something. He grabbed a gas mask from the desk and headed down the corridors like many mornings before, something in him screamed that this day would be different, that the Right Arm would really have a chance, and WICKED would start to fall. If anyone asked him how he could say that he didn't had an answer, he knew, he felt it.  
They went out, like every day before, and in the crowd he found their chance.

**Author's Note:**

> So, hi!! I hope you who reached this notes had liked the fic, and I apologise for any mistakes, English is not my first language.


End file.
